An Excerpt From...

Return to Rose Cottage by
Sherryl Woods

This didn't have to be the worst thing that had ever happened to her, Ashley decided stoically as she stashed groceries into the refrigerator at Rose Cottage.

Two of her sisters and their husbands were close by, so it wouldn't be like she was isolated among strangers. She could always order cable, so she could get Court TV and CNN. She'd brought a case of her favorite wine with her from Boston, along with a year's worth of articles by some of the country's foremost lawyers. She'd even tucked a few novels into her suitcases, books centered around trials, of course.

The key was going to be planning out her days, organizing every minute so she wouldn't have time to think about what had happened in that courtroom back in Boston. Heck, that ought to be a snap. She excelled at organization. That was one reason she'd been able to maintain such a high caseload.

Dispersing those cases among the other partners for the duration of her absence had taken an entire week. She'd worked compulsively to make sure each attorney fully understood her clients' needs. She'd briefed them so thoroughly, they'd seemed a little eager to see her gone.

After that frenetic pace, after loading up the car with all the essentials she couldn't possibly live without and after the long drive, she was just starting to feel a bit of a letdown, that was all. It was to be expected. By morning she'd probably be climbing the walls or calling the office every five minutes to make sure all the cases she'd left behind were being handled properly. She knew it wouldn't take more than a day for that to wear thin with the already exasperated lawyers she'd left in charge. She would simply have to resist the temptation.

She put her laptop on the kitchen table and placed a stack of legal pads and pens right next to it. It had taken every ounce of willpower she possessed to leave behind her law books, but there was a lot of information to be found on the internet. She'd make a few notes on her pending cases and pass them along when the time was right.

The mere sight of those familiar tools made her feel better, as if her life hadn't spun wildly out of control.

No sooner was everything in place, though, than Maggie and Melanie swept in the back door, took one look at her stash of supplies and loaded the lot into a shopping bag. They ignored every one of Ashley's heated objections.

"What the hell do the two of you think you're doing?" she demanded, trying to snatch things back as fast as they picked them up. "This is my house. Those are my things."

Ashley felt an unfamiliar hint of panic crawling up her throat. "Come on, Maggie," she pleaded. "I want that stuff. And I've got to have a cell phone. What if somebody needs to reach me?"

Maggie gave her a wry look. "Can you honestly say there's anyone back home besides Mom and Dad and Jo that you're anxious to talk to right now? As for the rest of this, you only need it when you're working."

"And you're on vacation," Melanie reminded her, even as she checked out the stack of reading material Ashley had piled up on the counter. "Sorry. This needs to go, too." She rummaged in Ashley's purse and plucked out the cell phone.

Ashley frowned at the pair of them. "What the hell am I supposed to do for three whole weeks?"

Melanie chuckled. "You're supposed to relax. I know it's a foreign concept, but you'll get the hang of it eventually."

"We thought of that," Maggie soothed, handing over a bag filled with videos and paperback novels. "Comedy and romance."

Fluff, nothing but fluff. Ashley moaned. "Dear God, what are you trying to do to me?"

"We're trying to get some balance in your life," Melanie said. "Of course, there's a lot to be done in the garden now. The tulip and daffodil bulbs need to be thinned, and I bought some new ones to be planted out front."

"It's fall, not spring," she reminded Melanie. "Aren't you supposed to plant things in the spring?"

"Not bulbs. They come up early, remember? Trust me, this will be good for you. A little physical work in the sun will take your mind off your problems."

"I don't do physical work," Ashley retorted, glancing at her perfectly manicured nails and trying to imagine them after gardening. She shuddered at the image.

"You go to a gym," Maggie reminded her. "In fact, you're as compulsive about that as you are about everything else. This will be even better for you. You can go for long walks. You'll be breathing in all this fresh, salty air."

"It smells like fish," Ashley retorted, determined not to take pleasure in anything just to spite her hateful sisters. How had she gone all these years without noticing how controlling and obnoxious they were?

Clearly undaunted, Melanie bit back a grin. "Not so much in the garden. You'll see. There are lots of wonderful fragrances out there. Grandmother saw to that and Mike and I recreated it just the way it was."

Defeated, Ashley sat down at the kitchen table and rested her head on her arms. "I want to go home."

"Of course, I do," Maggie said. "We all do, with a touch of Grandmother Lindsey thrown in. They were our role models. The only thing missing is the Southern accent."

Ashley thought back to the subtle lessons their grandmother had instilled in all of them on their visits to Rose Cottage. Cornelia Lindsey had been very big on manners. And, despite the fact that the D'Angelo sisters were growing up in Yankee territory, she'd wanted them to become Southern ladies. She'd taught them the importance of family and friendships, of generosity and kindness. Some of the lessons had stuck better than others.

Ashley relented. "Okay, no more whining," she promised. "But you have to get me out of here before I go stir-crazy."

"Because you don't need it," Melanie said. "You'll want a clear head for all that introspection you intend to do."

"I need the wine for that." Even as she uttered the words, Ashley heard the hint of desperation in her voice and knew it was a warning. She sighed heavily. "Okay, no wine."

Once they were out of the house, Melanie and Maggie refused to let her wallow in self-pity. By the time they'd eaten a leisurely lunch and shopped for a couple of hours, Ashley had actually managed to laugh without restraint a couple times. She'd almost forgotten that this was the first of what promised to be way too many unstructured, unfulfilling days. When she remembered that, she shuddered.

Back at Rose Cottage, Maggie gave her a fierce hug. "You're going to be fine."

"I suppose," Ashley conceded grudgingly. She didn't believe that, not for a minute.

"And we're expecting you for dinner tonight at seven," Maggie added. "I'm making all your favorites. All those dishes Mom used to make for you before you started subsisting on salads." She winked. "Play your cards right, and you can even have a glass of wine."

Ashley laughed. "Now you've made it worth my while to come over and put up with more of these invigorating, if somewhat annoying, pep talks."

Melanie patted her cheek. "Sweetie, we just want you to get yourself back on track. We promise we won't hover, but we will be around if you need us."

"I know and I'm grateful. I really am, even if I have been sounding like a total jerk." She watched them go, taking her laptop, all those articles and her legal pads. She felt a mixture of relief and fear as they disappeared from sight.

Inside, she glanced at the kitchen clock. It was only two. What on earth was she going to do for five whole hours? What had she done on all those lazy summer afternoons years ago? It finally came to her that when she and her sisters hadn't been out on the water, she'd gone into the backyard with a book in her hand. She'd gotten lost in amazing adventures in exotic locales.

Impulsively she reached into the bag that her sisters had left and withdrew a paperback without even glancing at the title or the author. Neither really mattered.

Before she could suffer a pang of regret or pick up the phone to call the cable company, she went outside to the swing facing the bay. It was wide enough for her to turn sideways and put her feet on the seat, and there was enough breeze to keep it in motion; just a slight, soothing back and forth.

She opened the book, read the first paragraph with the intention of hating it, then read the second with a more open mind. By the end of the page, she was hooked. She was reminded of the pleasure she'd felt years ago when her days had been lazy and undemanding and a good story had been all she needed to keep herself entertained for hours on end.

The best days had been the rainy ones, when she'd curled up on a chair in the living room or on the porch, book in hand, a glass of freshly squeezed lemonade beside her. She'd read incessantly, emerging only long enough for meals or to play cards or board games with her grandmother and sisters.

The satisfaction of that was coming back to her, page by page. In this book, the characters jumped off the page, the romance was steamy and the author's voice was filled with intelligence and wit. Ashley lost herself in the story.

She was stiff and cramped when she finally turned the last page. Her cheeks were unexpectedly damp with happy tears. When was the last time she'd read anything that had affected her like this? Probably before she'd gone to law school. Since then she hadn't had time for the simple pleasure of reading for entertainment.

For the very first time, Ashley saw this self-imposed banishment in a new light, as a real gift. Maybe if she went back to the girl she'd once been, to someone who was filled with hopes and dreams, she'd be able to discover where she'd slipped off track. Maybe she'd rediscover the humanity that had made her a good judge of people before she'd started to rely on cool calculation and mental agility to succeed.

Not that she intended to tell her sisters that she was beginning to see the benefits of this sabbatical. They'd gloat.

"Oh, my gosh, dinner," she muttered, glancing at her watch. It was ten minutes till seven, and she'd never even taken a shower or changed. After all her grumbling about the mere thought of being isolated, if she was late for a party, she'd never hear the end of it.

"They'll just have to take me as I am," she said, laughing at the evidence that she was already adopting a whole new attitude.

That didn't stop Ashley from grabbing her purse and car keys and tearing out of the driveway at her more accustomed frantic pace. She simply couldn't be expected to change everything about her personality overnight.

Josh felt like a rebellious twelve-year-old running away from home and unwanted responsibilities. As he neared the Chesapeake Bay, he could smell the tang of salt water in the cool September air. As he got closer to his family's longtime second home by the water, there was also a faintly fishy scent that he'd come to acquaint with summer. His mother had balanced that with a garden filled with fragrant blossoms, which were just beginning to fade as summer moved into autumn.

When he turned at last onto the final leg of the journey, a long, winding country road that led from White Stone toward Windmill Point, he spotted a dozen or so brand-new homes interspersed with the old cottages and other recently completed vacation homes. The new additions were huge, dwarfing their quaint and occasionally run-down neighbors, but large or small, they all shared the same incredible view of the Chesapeake Bay and its inlets.

He was almost to the cutoff to Idylwild, the small clapboard cottage with its neat green shutters and sweeping porch, when a fancy car being driven toward him way too fast took the turn ahead of him wide. The driver spotted him too late and tried to overcorrect. Josh cut the wheel in the opposite direction, but the crunch of metal against metal was inevitable, the contact jarring but not enough to cause injury.

He leapt out of the car in full lawyer mode, then backed up a step at the sight of the tawny-haired driver of the other car suddenly bursting into tears. At once all he could think about were broken bones and soft, bleeding skin.

"Are you okay?" he asked, leaning in the driver's window close enough to catch a faint whiff of something exotic, sexy and expensive. The combination dealt a knockout punch to his belly and put the rest of his all-too-male senses on full alert.

Brown eyes, shimmering with tears, glanced up at him, then away. Her cheeks blazed with unmistakable embarrassment. Josh studied her, trying to figure out why he felt an almost immediate connection to her, as if they'd known each other before. But that couldn't be, of course. He would have remembered any woman who looked like this. Except for the tear-streaked face, she was as sleek and polished as any of the society women he'd come to know in Richmond. The clothes were expensive, if wrinkled. Gold-and-diamond studs winked from her ears.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered. "It was my fault." She was already fumbling in her Gucci bag, apparently digging for her driver's license, car registration and insurance card. "Dammit, dammit, dammit! Why can't I ever find anything in here?"